CheeseLuvr69
You just need to get the f*ck out of Moscow. It's only got those awful malnourished string beans in oversized fur parkas, so you don't even know they're rail thin until it's too late.
Russia is just one big mindf*ck.

-plays up thinking for a moment-
-hands in his jean pockets, rocking back and forth ont he balls of his feet-
Yes, I think I would. Chav is such a dirty word. -shudder-
Apologies. Although, now that you mention it...-ahem-
You should find July. She's quite fond of setting fires. I'm sure she'd be thrilled to light up a... wanker for you.

Chav? -looks down at self then back to her-
That hurts. I was feeling a little sorry for you. You've missed out by not having your twin, but a Chav? I'm many things, but Chav is certainly not one of them.
Have you ever watched someone burn? It's very fascinating.

-blink once-
-blink twice-
-bursts out laughing- My, my. Is that some resentment I taste for your 'birthers'? -coughs to cover up some more laughter- Perhaps we are related, somewhere down the line. Our 'birthers' only wanted us because twins are special. But we weren't the right kind of twins. It's a shame they perished in a fire.
-makes a tsk sound-doesn't look all that upset about it-

Hmm -stares at the woman for a moment- I'm not seeing any familial resemblance, though it has been many years since I've seen anyone family, besides July. Are you expecting your cousins to show up out of no where?

"I've never eaten anyone before..." Nate admits, flicking the joint away as he grows tired with it. It makes his head a little light and fuzzy, but it's nothing too bad and he's not sure why so many people were turned away at the gates for something as silly as drug use. It was just a plant. People eat lettuce, right?

"...do they taste...oh, hello." he stops and eyes her bare a$$. The urge to kick her, to plant his boot firmly against her butt cheek, is as tempting as all hell. But instead, aware that this may be a greeting he's yet to learn of, Nate shakes his head and slips his hands firmly into his pockets.

Spring
You have OUR birthers? Or rather, the sperm donor? In your basement? Alive and intact?
My my, baby sister. You do have more patience than I thought. Or perhaps it isn't patience. Perhaps it is cleverness and the diabolical need to punish.
Understandable.
As for me, it's the b!tch I want.
You know the saying- there's a special place in hell for women who don't help each other. Well, I happen to know a specific place in hell for cows who throw out their offspring like last week's garbage.
A woman like that deserves to have her head shoved up her clown-car tw*t.
Sh!t, I need a bigger blunt, obvs.
...You are talking about our birthers, yea?

Spring
Are they dead, the breeders?
If not, and if I ever run into them, I will end their cursed existence.
....
Damn, now I’m hopin’ to run into them.
Imma smoke a bowl and settle the fvck down before I set out on a Breeder Kill Crusade.

"You've had sh!t in life. I get it. Blah blah blah. We've all had f*cking shi!t. I've been dumped on this godforsaken hell against my f*cking will. You think that was fun? You think it's fun being here? It's f*cking not. So sue me for trying to have a little fun and trying to making f*cking conversation with you. But fun. F*ck the f*ck off. I don't give a flying f*ck. But when you're sat there later, wallowing in your own self pity, all alone, remember that you could have been having some f*cking fun with a random stranger tonight instead. Now shoo, off you pop."

He smokes some more as she smokes her own and this time, as he exhales, he forces the smoke toward her face and snorts a laugh.

“How’d you get to be so f*cking angry all the time? Or maybe you just like pain. What if I smashed your face into the concrete, Weed? Cracked your bones in all the wrong places. You like the sound and smell of bloodies bones? I know I f*cking do. So why don’t you get over your sorry a$s self, hitch a ride on the ‘f*ck it train’ and take me out to go main a couple of unsuspecting skin bags?”

Nate attempts to catch the lighter, sort of misses…ish, knocking it with his knuckle, reaching to grab it again and somehow managed to secure it between his thumb and finger. Suck skills. Much inner-applause. He lights the joint and tosses it back to her.

“You’ll grow to love me, sh!thead. So get over yourself and chill the f*ck out.” He offers the joint as smoke billows from his mouth. “Want a drag, hag?”

"I f*cking like you, Weed. You're something else." Nate waggled a finger at her, his face occupied by a wide grin, teeth bared. It's not some pleading admission, but rather a 'Yeah, you'll do' statement. "This f*cking rock is full of sh!t-for-brains and those f*cking nancy dogooders, but you, you speak your god damn mind. It's refreshing. You're the f*cking Spring Awakening to this otherwise hell pit of an excuse for a population. Now, you mind if I borrow that to..." He fiddles in his pocket, pulling out a rolled joint. "...to light this beast. Or are you planning on setting me alight? I don't mind so much either way but if you choose the latter, it'll be a waste of our potential."

A connection. Her body to his as she goes low, aiming for his special place. She's screaming, hurling abuse, and Nate? What does Nate do?

Well sure, the impact of her leg to his d!ck definitely causes his body to move - but it's the force of the action and nothing more. For while he DEFINITELY had junk down below, he doesn't feel the excruciating pain some lesser beings surely would.

He looks down, back up to her, down again and once more to her face, his own blossoming into a grin.

"You're f*cking hot!" he exclaims, and then shrugs. "And I don't say that...ever. Especially about, y'know, blood-sucking fiends or, well, anyone. Bravo. Do you need me to pretend that hurt though? Would that help? Because I can totally grab my balls and cry in agony if that's what gets you off, Weed?"

"Oh my god, you actually DO exist. Haaaaaa..." Nate continues to p!ss himself laughing, palms clutching his sides in near-agony. "We had bets! No one... NO ONE would ever think to name their kid 'Weed'...AND HERE YOU F*CKING ARE! That bird-brained Gabriel owes me a metric f*cktonne of moonshine for this one."

My B-tch
At least your Jew is pretty. I f-cking hate him, but he is nice to look at. Until he starts talking. Then I just want to f-cking punch him. I'm not worried about blue cheese, at that. Why. Has he said he's bored?

Spring
I heard you opened your own outfit. Nicely done, baby sis. I've no doubt in my mind you'll do amazing.
To be honest, I've not a clue what Azhi Dahaka means. I joined them because they are like me, they keep to themselves, and when they do come out of the dark, they scare children. Lo, I have found my people.
Speaking of people, I come from the school of thought that most are actually fvcking a$$holes. If they are like me, or like you, they are all utter tw@ts. With some very limited exception, of course.
I hope it goes without saying, but I've always got your back. Even if it looks weird if I'm fighting from the other side. I'm not as strong as you, never will be. But my feathers can kill a b!tch. It comes in handy. I'll mail you one some time. Not that you need it.
Miss you too, b1tch.

A rather large rectangular package arrives at her door sometime in the afternoon with a note written in fine calligraphy inside. Once she opened it she will see a large black scyth with a razor sharp blade neatly packaged.

Spring
Yep, still dancing on poles. Still making a fvckin killing. I invest 80%, the rest I spend on pasties. You know the saying “A fool and his money are soon parted”? It should be engraved in stone in all strip joints. Like, don’t mind if I fvckin relieve you of all the quid in your wallet, stupid bloke.
I don’t know if smoking had control over anything. It’s more that I couldn’t control it? I don’t fvckin’ know, dude. I think I came up with the idea while stoned and just stuck with it.
I stay out in Sydney, with this group called Azhi Dahaka. They’re pretty cool. They keep to themselves. They are like me. Plus it’s nice and hot here, sunny most of the time. It’s perfect. It’s winter right now, kind of a trip. Good time to visit though, for those who aren’t that keen on heat and the sun. *hint-hint*
Douchlav’s? Oh.. The Order? I don’t really fvck with Russia, tbh. Too damned cold and the food is complete garbage. Don’t get me started on the politics. Talk about a nation filled with cold wankers. Literally, the only thing that place has going for it is vodka. And you know what? Other places make booze, so I’m all the fvck set. Fvckin seriously. Anyway. They are kinda like me (The Orlav’s, not Russians. Fvck those guys), so I guess I look at ‘em a little differently. I was gonna ask if they were bothering you, but then had to laugh for about five minutes straight at that thought. What’s got them on your radar? You vacationing up with some drunk pillocks, heard an American accent and it drove you bat sh!t? Understandable, honestly.

Summer had to scroll down the list quite a ways to finally find the last text exchange between her and her youngest living sister. In fact, when she saw the date of their last contact, her stomach twisted. Had it really been that long? What had happened? She had her own idea, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. Not as she aimed to reach out.

Spring
I was thinking about how I hadn’t heard from you in a really long time. It kinda bummed me out, but then I know you like to keep to yourself and that fvckin’ sapling. I also realized that road went both ways and I hadn’t reached out either. I have my reasons, but not worth hashing out. What matters is that you’re doing good, you and that sapling. Is it a tree yet? What kind is it? I tried my hand at growing a plant but it died, despite my mere fvcking presence being enough for photosynthesis. Go figure.
I quit smoking. It makes me feel like I have one tiny bit of control in my life. So that’s cool.
…
I meant cigs. I quit smoking cigarettes. Not like, quit smoking everything. I haven’t completely given up on life.
Winter visited not long ago. He’s kind of a mess. I don’t know what’s going on with him. When he was set to leave, I got him an Uber to get to the airport. I haven’t heard from him since.
Okay, longest fvcking text in the history of texting. I went long winded because I know you have unending patience for such sh!t. ;)

My B-tch
Jesus f-cking Christ. I have news, you dirty slag. BIG NEWS. Like, I'm pretty sure you might want to kiss me. Again. What is that sh-t you put on your lips, anyway? Is that chapstick? Or do you just rub Jolly Ranchers on them between puffs from your cig?

Victor's eyes narrowed as he read Spring's message, not because of anger, but rather because he was attempting to read the message between her curses. Puffing on the cigarette hanging jauntily from his lips, he tapped out his response.

Rage Crumpet
Naw, my trusty baloney pony is still attached. I can submit photographic evidence if you're not convinced. 👌

Victor, the sh*t that he is, had forgotten to give up his key to the Mercy stronghold. No one had said anything to him about it, and he'd keenly assumed it was because Gray hoped he'd show up in the middle of the night for a visit. The guy was definitely a pillow-biter. No judgement. It was flattering, but Gray would just have to be disappointed.

It wasn't the suited rainbow that he'd come to drop a message, after all.

Ductaped to Spring's door was a bag of cheetos with a message and a phone number sharpie'd onto the package in black.

My B-tch
Queen Jew? Omfg. Did you curl your hair? Are you wearing one of those awkward little hats? Is your suit freshly pressed? You need a gold scarf thing. Like the ones priests hang around their necks over their gowns, but for Jews.

"I am nothing like them," she speaks quietly, begrudging being lumped in with her brother and Elouise.

Noura watches the girl, fully aware that she is in dangerous territory. She's seen the woman stomping around Moscow, heard talk of her, and read about her on numerous occasions. She is dangerous. But, she is also someone Noura wants on her side. So, she gives Spring a nod, tapping the wallet in her pocket. "Yea. Whatever you want."

The first statement makes sense. The question, even more. What comes after, Noura is lost on. Dark eyes focus on the petite package of doom before her, and already she likes her. She's angry. Noura can appreciate that. "I'm Noura, not a normal Orlav. I'd like to buy you a drink."

Noura had left the compound. For now, at least. She has every intention of returning and annoying the everliving sh-t out of select people... but for now, she takes in the sights of a long-since burnt Christmas tree. That's about when she spies the angry looking girl. Even on concrete, she could feel the Earth quake with each step the other takes. "You're that girl, aren't you?" She calls out. "The one who terrorizes Elouise."

She walked up to Spring's door and knocked on it. In her hands was an actual sapling for her to have for her special day. She waited for her to open up the door before speaking. "This is for you. Please don't scare it to death like you've done to pretty much everyone else."

My B-tch
YES!! Please come visit me. But no killing. And you have to be careful, because there's a kid present. Don't ask. It's weird. It's not mine. Don't worry. I want to see you in a suit. I bet you look hot af.

Very Angry SpringThey are still around the Orlavs? I thought that had been a one time circumstance...I knew Autumn had tried to assist in making a cure but it did not pan out well. I had assumed after that all communications had ended.This is quite unsettling. I shall inquire them both.

Angry SpringThat wasn't nearly as bad as I was expecting.The lubed d!ck individual was my coven brother. I told him not to even try speaking with you...I guess he got brave.Last I remember he was looking into something for me so no. I don't think so.I think Winter seduced him, though... which worries me.And what's this about loving slayers?

Text: Jewish Springalicious
As in being one of the most hated racial groups in the world type of struggle. Anyways, I am in London to meet the other cheap @ss jew. He mentioned you will want to be there so see you there.

Springtime
Well, light might be an issue in Gray's closet and they'd get destroyed in d*cktard's bed.
Aye, a present.
What do you say about going out and getting you a few snappy suits, too? You can out-Jew and out-dress Gray.

Springtime
That's almost cute.
Ever thought about putting a greenhouse and/or garden on top of Mercy's building? You'd have a f*ck ton of room, then.
Anyway, I've brought several cuttings back from Romania for you. And a surprise. A good surprise.

Text: Springalicious
Its called being human.. When you became a vampire it doesn't change. Sometimes it amplifies but you can learn to cull them.. Do you miss your husband or your feeling something for someone else?

She thought about it for a moment. "Gray told me you LOVE LARD." She watched as she typed back furiously. Fking Wanker. "What if we got him a whole bunch of it and mess up that "Perfect" hair of his." She laughed softly, "He won't be able to get it out for weeks."

She watched as another coven member approached her, and she already knew who it was before she walked up. Spring Summers. She laughed as she listened to her welcome. "You must be Spring. Thank you for the welcome." She looked her up and down before smirking. "Someone told me you like to be mean to people." She gently crossed her arms as she came up with an idea. "Which is why I need your help. It seems as though Mr. Gray has been too busy with work. Let's mess with that wanker."

Text: Springalicious
I don't let anybody cut me up. Or get that close to me, period. Your sister is the exception to the close part but we have known each other for 8 years and counting.. COMON, Not the same thing..

Lucius searched for Spring and found her. Not like she was hard to track down regardless. All a person needed to do is close their eyes, don't make a single sound, and voila... There was Spring cursing at some poor SOB when she wasn't cursing at her own shadow.

-Target Locked In and Confirmed-

"Hey b*tch! Try catching this one!" Before he even said that he had already thrown the nasty bloody heart at head and made a run for it from his hiding spot. Whether it hit her or not, he didn't care. The man had a plane to catch and did not want die!

Springtime
Wouldn't be the first time.
You can pay for copies of it. You know that, aye?
I believe you did call Casey your husband. In fact, I have the proof right here on my phone. I'm happy for you, sissypie.

Lucius feels a cold shiver running down even before reading the full text. Well that was weird.

Text: Springalicius
I think its already working! The # of F*ck yous is already getting shorter. Wooooot! Im paying the school extra for sedatives and a better security team. I think the investment in the long run will be best for your husband, the Coven, London, and the rest of the world!

PS: I am travelling the Witch corner in this side of the world *wink emoji*

Text: Springalicious
You see.. I might have incidentally gave them all your contact information and paid them extra to find you if you don't go. They are going to bomb the f@ck out of your cell phone, home phone and voicemail :-D

It was done. Your going to love the next couple of days b*tch.. He glared at her during the times she had her back turned then smiled when she faced him. It was more or less what kept happening until they made their way to the Coven home. "Why does it come as no surprise that the males in your family are all flaming butt pirates? With women like you around to take the rein, it wouldn't surprise me if you had a ****** in between your legs either you fat twat."

He shrugged and tried to get into his zen/happy place but every single time he tried she just kept smashing it. Jesus, here comes another little Game of Thrones Joffrey with a f8cking wig on and the crossbow of destruction. Such a sadistic f#ck. "Another thing why would I want to f@ck you? That's like going into an iron cheese grater with spikes all over the hole just shredding everything going in or out. No thank you angry Kristin f*cking Stewart... Im good but if the day ever comes when I want to shoot myself in the head with an emo succubus, Ill come get you."

"Ohh... my... f@cking.. God...." He wanted so hard to bang his head against hers but he held his bearing even when she got closer to him still. He just wanted to get this over with... with this walking plague. The Black Death had nothing on this f*cking *****. Sooo much hatred in such a little thing... Just why? Why god? And great, she was kicking him too. He almost growled as she started leading him to the Coven building.

Every step he was chanting the rite in his head and weaving signs secretly behind her. Tomorrow was going to be a new day.. Brandddd 'new' day for Spring. "The same amount of time when you got fangs shoved up your nasty, ****-stained @sshole..." He responded back to the last question she asked while wondering if female vampires got their periods. "Seriously... How the f@ck did you get married... Did you use a love potion or had a witch work some type of vodoo f%cking magic to get him to marry you." He just had to know.

Just keep smiling, smiling, smil..inggg.... F@ck, this was so hard to do with this angry emo porcupine but he managed it well. He couldn't believe someone would marry this...this thing.. He reminded himself to get her husband a trophy for not killing her or offing himself.

This b!tch was worst than the gas chamber during the holocaust.. F*ck sakes she is getting into his personal space now. "Can you just shut the f*ck up and lead on already??" He responded in a calm tone while keeping the smile intact... Barely. Just barely but still clinging on to his lips. "Jesus, personal space too, woman. Personal f*cking space." He hid one hand in his back making small signs for the spell while the other one kept in front in case she was going for an attack.

He never knew with her. In the years since he last saw her she had grown more restless and just meeting her in London was... Ugh... Thank you for leaving me alone Autumn thank you so f+cking much. Spring was the type of person which would have a segment dedicated to her in a 1,000 Ways to Die.

Lucius tried hard not to bang his head on the wall. How the f@ck can someone named Spring be such a pain in the ass.. She was the total opposite to spring, or autumn for that matter! Maybe a total eclipse or something jacked up like the black hole but spring?? Her parents were either obsessed with the weather or had the biggest sense of humor in this god forsaken world. Either way, he joined their coven so he'd have to suck it up but perhaps not entirely.. He didn't have to be overtly strong but he could be smart and use his powers to an advantage without the others figuring it out it was him...

"Would it kill you not to be such a f*cking prick about it? Smile for once. Look follow my example " He said almost like the last sentence was a 'key' word to a rite. He wanted her to turn around and go about her way so he could try the spell again. For that the energy needed to flow and feel almost natural to her before it shrouded her aura.

Lucius had this dreadful sigh hearing that familiar voice from that familiar person. Its her again....... Not having her as a b*tch for a week felt so good. Maybe a few more days... Just a few more f_cking days..

As he turned around to face her, he ends up catching a key and raising an eyebrow at Spring. "I do have magic sodding fingers, vampy." He responded back to her with a smirk as he looked down at the key, "This is the key to her house?" He asked with a little bite at the end.

Grabbing her phone to respond, Summer stopped short. F-ck her sideways if seeing the words "my husband" from Spring didn't floor her. Cracking up as she walked down the busy streets, shoulders bumping into passerbys, Summer sent her reply.

Spring
Do I know any slag hobo's? Have you SEEN my usual type of guy I shag? Don't answer that. The answer is: of course I do. There must truly be trouble in paradise if you want me to sic some of these goblin-d-cked douchecanoes after your groom. I'll text you some numbers.
Uh, do me a favor though. Don't say who gave you the number. I don't want them to remember me. It's hard enough to shake some of these cretins.

My B-tch
Wait. Wait. Are you f-cking married, or are you a couple of tweens oogling? God dammit, Spring. Hit that sh-t. Blindfold the sapling, and hit it. Like, not literally. Bang. Jfc. Take it from me, it works. I've been married more times than I can count on one hand.

My B-tch
YOU HAVE SEEN HIM NAKED!? I mean, is it more like a choooooode, ooooor... just unfortunate? You know what? It's okay. It's all about the motion in the ocean, yea? So long as you don't kill each other, it will be okay.

Wrong Number
omg. You'll never believe what happened. This b-tch came up and started yelling at me to get out of London, so I pretty much too the high road and told her to go f-ck herself. It was so fun.

Not expecting a response from either of her sisters, Summer couldn't help but giggle as she read the response from Spring. With a noisy stretch, she rolled out of her cozy bed and tugged on a pair of leggings emblazoned with dollar signs. Giving a shrug, she decided to roll with the men's button down shirt she was wearing. Who knows who the original owner was, and who really cared. It was cozy and now hers. Slipping her woolen-socked feet into a pair of well worn Birkenstocks (they could take away her patchouli and dreads, those damned angels would have to pry her Birkenstocks off her cold, dead feet), Summer grabbed her purse and ran downstairs. She wasn’t sure where Blaize was, so she didn’t bother with shouting a goodbye. He was likely down in the basement painting. Definitely didn’t want to bother that process. Hopping into her light blue VW Bug, she sped off through the rainy streets to Springs place.

Knocking as she let herself in, Summer kicked off her sandals at the front and grinned at her sister, tossing the carton of Noblesse on the couch. “Seriously, they give those to prisoners in the Israeli jails. Not as a courtesy, but as punishment. You’re welcome.” Snickering, she flopped down, unbothered by the patchwork duct-tape upholstery. “Now. About that drink?”

She’d heard through the tiny grapevine that was her family that her sisters had a blow out fight. Summer flopped onto her bed, shoving pillows out of the way, staring at the ceiling. Fairly sober, she licked her lips out of nervousness and put her hand on her belly. Discord among the very few she actually loved in this world made her feel physically ill. She didn’t know what the fight was about and she didn’t need to. That was between them. Despite that, Summer felt like she needed to reach out to the two bullheaded women, knowing that they were very likely isolating themselves. With a sigh, she chuckled as she glanced at her tall, antique apothecary chest. Each tiny drawer contained a different means of escape and isolation for the woman. They all had different ways of quieting the storm.

Rolling over, she grabbed her phone and sent out a text to each, just needing to send out that tether to her baby sisters.

Spring, my shining diamond- I finally returned from Jerusalem. Yes, I did pee on her grave. No, I did not get caught. I brought home some Israeli cigarettes for you. They’re called Noblesse and I guess they are just awful. Like, wreck your throat terrible. You’ll love ‘em. And I love you, no matter what. Xoxo- S

Those hateful words hit Autumn like a sucker punch to the tits and then some. They cut deep, as intended. Any love she possessed for her sister - No, no longer sister. Only Spring - dies right then and there.

Autumn tolerates a great deal from Spring, for years she’s put up with her bullsh*t, but this? Out of line doesn’t even begin to cover it. She’s dead to Spring? Fine. No problem. Autumn is done. She refuses to allow that b*tch to drag her down into the abyss because everything said didn’t describe Autumn, it described Spring.

The terrible things we see in people are often reflections of ourselves.

Spring hates herself so vehemently, she’s willing to destroy things between them because of it.

If Autumn wasn’t righteously pissed at her sister, the way she went arse over teakettle on the couch would’ve sent her into a gigglefit. When isn’t someone faceplanting funny? Other than this moment, that is.

“You aren’t Gray. He isn’t nearly as f*cking mouthy. Not by half. So, for once in your goddamn life, shut your f*cking mouth, Spring Weed.” She wants to use middle names? Autumn will play ball. “He didn’t bring sh*t into anything. I know your temper and knew you were going to go for his nuts. That’s why I’m here because, yeah, I’d like to have him in once piece for our date.”

Since when were they going on a date? Gray must’ve said something. Had to be.

Autumn pointed a hostile index finger at her sister. “Not a word. I’m not f*cking finished. First of all, you are my sister, not the hall monitor of my sex life. I will f*ck who I want, when I want, where I want, in however many positions I good and damn well please. You get absolutely no say in the matter. Hear me? None. Because it is my choice who to take to bed. It doesn’t matter if Gray is a fling or the love of my life. Secondly, how f*cking dare you begrudge me happiness, regardless of the cause? You, of all people, know exactly how rare any sort of good feelings are for both of us. So where the hell do you get off sneering a moment of my happiness off? Is it because Gray gave it to me, and not you? News flash, it isn’t always all about Spring. I LIKE GRAY AND THERE IS NOT A GODDAMN F*CKING THING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT. If you have a problem with it, there’s the door.”

She points the finger toward the door. “Don’t let it hit you where they split you.”

Autumn is fit to be tied. Oh, she’d texted Gray, trying to warn him of Springs wrath because of a slip on her part, but she knows her sister. Considering she neglected to answer back…

She storms down the hallway toward where Gray and Spring are looking like they’re about to have it out, temper swirling about her, snapping and almost alive. “SPRING SUMMERS! What the actual f*ck do you think you’re doing?” Honestly, that kind of yell shouldn’t come out of someone so tiny. “Leave Gray the hell alone or, so help me, we are going to go rounds, sister mine,” Autumn snarls.

Spring
Jesus f*cking Christ. You're so damn nosy. Gray sent me one of those singing telegram things when he asked me to come to London with him. They had mustaches and everything. It was really sweet. Even charming. Not that I'll ever admit it to him... he has too much ego for his own good.

Then I told him to leave me alone. We both see how well that worked out. I'm so f*cking confused. I want him near me, want to see him and at the same time I don't.

The carnival was a year ago. More than! After that, I got married, separated, camped on his couch, made him mad, made out with him, pissed him off again, went back to my husband, and then... he went off the grid for a bit. Actually, he's not answered my texts in ages.

He’d predicted that she would spontaneously combust from his lack of serious answer, and he wasn’t entirely wrong. He could practically see steam rising from her forehead. He’d made her so mad, in fact, that she tried to reach up and grab his beard. She was pretty quick, admittedly, but he was quicker. She only pulled out a hair. Or two.

Eyes only watering slightly from the sting of beard pubes lost, he waved a hand mildly to signal for her to chill out. “Alriiight, you got me. It’s only a little about the garlic. As for the rest, since you seem to need to know so damn bad, married women just aren’t my thing. I might be pretty, but I’m no homewrecker.”

Wait. What? He is Mr. Morals, and all, but my sticky wedding isn't his issue. Well. It's a small issue. But one he'd likely look over because I can only do so much. ...You know, he won me a teddy bear at a carnival once. And bought me popcorn.

He honestly hadn’t expected that she was actually going to whip her pants down. Christ, this girl. Desperately stifling laughter, he waved a hand at her. “God, alright, I’ll tell you if you pull your damn pants up.”

He took a step closer to her, leaning down to her level conspiratorially and lowering his voice. “Right. So. Your b*tch. She’s a vampire, yeah? It’s a huge issue between us. I just.. I just can not live without garlic. I can’t do it.”

Solomon bit back a smirk as she lifted her shirt to expose her unfortunately hairless back, making his future plans of beard-creating moot. Crossing his arms, he lifted a hand to his face, stroking the beard in question.

“No no, I want to figure out this beard situation. It needs to be better next time, right? If I can’t use your back hair, surely I can use your áss hair.”

Solomon tried to follow her train of thought. Really, he did. But it was difficult to work out the meandering route that choo-choo took. Regardless, she only seemed to have two levels of thinking. Angry and f*ck-off angry. As she talked, he idly wondered if the vein throbbing in her forehead ever got a break.

It was pretty hard to make Solomon angry. And this situation was no exception. More than anything, he was put off. He was gonna have to make a long-distance phone call after this.

“I see. Well, you’re right. It was an ugly fashion statement. Next time, instead of skinning your mom’s back for the beard pubes, I’ll skin yours.”

The bear of a man crossed his arms slowly as his ears were assaulted by this woman’s mouth. Who in the world did she think she was, shrieking at him on the sidewalk like a coked out trucker?

“Did anyone ever tell you that compulsive swearing is a sign of a limited vocabulary?” Voice deep and gravelly, he continued, “..and which question did you want me to answer, the one about your ‘b*tch’ or did you want know what animal I skinned?”

Solomon heard someone yelling, but it didn’t make him take pause. It was New York, someone was always yelling. Then he heard his name.

Oh great, someone found out my middle name.

He turned to behold a vaguely familiar wildwoman brandishing a newspaper and hurling accusations at him about her ‘b*tch’. He knew fairly quickly she must be talking about Mackenzie, and instantly remembered who this woman was at the sight and mention of the newspaper, but he decided to play coy.

“Hey, I thought that reporter said that you were pleasant.” A giant booted foot came down on the slowly smoldering newspaper on the sidewalk, snuffing it out. He wasn’t a veteran firefighter for nothing, anyhow.

Hmmm. Spring didn't look nearly as excited as Summer felt about her super cute wings. What was with her? Tilting her head to the side, her eyes widened with surprised curiosity. "Yea, I died. Everyone gets these." With a gasp and cluck of her tongue, Summer glanced nervously upward and chastised Spring in a hushed, shocked voice. "Spring! You can't shove your fangs in their faces. She doesn't mean it!" Summer yelled the last part at the sky. A lone pigeon flapped its wings in response, uncaring. Smiling sweetly, the dim blonde tried her best to reassure the woman in front of her, clearly angry as a wet cat. "I'm fiiiine. I like it. It's fun. My wings smell like cotton candy and I can really be a vegan now. Not like earlier." Summer's nose wrinkled in distaste, recalling her feeble attempts to feed on only vegetarian or vegan people. It was a paradox that was obvious even to the intellectually challenged like Summer. Gasping again, Summer squealed, "You're jealous, aren't you! That's it, I just know it. You wish you were an angel too. Imagine that, Spring Weed is actually jealous of ME!!" Her voice raised in octaves out of excitement as she spoke.

Camille feels the itch. It claws desperately from depths buried well within the back of her mind. The voices had been quiet for far too long and as with most silences, after a while they become most deafening.

Do it. Come on, just a little taste.

Soft white teeth bare, grinding top against bottom while gently dirtied fingers curl into fists. Unkept fingernails dig into the flesh of her palm, almost hard enough to prick the skin and allow blood to flow from the surface.

What are you waiting for? Look at them. Look at them all. Sheep. Your sheep. Herd them.

A vindictive growl. Heavy and rough against the delicate workings of her wind pipe. What she would give to silence it forever. To finally be able to fight through these urges. These insistences.

A dark mass of hair works towards her. It captures her attention, like fire against a dark night sky. A woman. Female, at any rate. Smaller than Camille, but little could be said for how she might put up a fight. Closer she draws, until she's almost perfectly aligned, ready to pass the Angel without a second thought. No mind paid to her. Strangers now and forever.

Until Camille extends her arm with all of her strength and punches the woman square in the face. The pressure against her knuckles sends a searing sensation through the entirety of her body. From her head to her toes she tingles, a deeply satisfied sigh resonating as the strange woman is impacted. Slowly, a tangle of messy flaxen locks bounce back and forth while her head rolls from one shoulder to the other.

"Thanks." Oh, was she gracious as ever. Thankful for the release at the expense of anyone.

Blinking a few times, Summer stated plainly, "Spring I have no idea if you've been knocked out. Am I....? I don't know the answer to that question either, but guess what! I DIED!" She nearly gushed with excitement, rubbing her head where she was bopped. "And I went to Hell, but Lucifer was soooo rude! Oh my different-god, he was so mean, Spring!" Her voice pitched upward in a whine. "So then I got sent to heaven. It's so lame up there. Like, so so boring. But I got these. Watch." Summer released her wings, white tinted with hot pink. Her eyes lit up like Vegas, like she'd never seen them before. "Aren't they amazing? I picked the color myself. Albert said no other angel has pink wings. Told you- F*ckin' boring."

The man runs through, ripping mindlessly at his veins where tubes and needles had been inserted. Something attached to him beeps, and he flails around like swatting at the sound might make it go away. Actually, he looks a bit like he's been abducted by aliens and then left to die in some desolate cornfield.
"DON'T even talk to her. She's crazy. AND armed." The man snaps, a hitch in his step as he toddles off.

F-ck yea! And we can wear matching outfits and do our hair the same and wear yesterdays makeup the same! Better yet, we could both just dress up as that creepy b-tch from The Ring. Scare the ****ing monocles off the drunks.

YES. Oh, word of f-cking warning. This one is weird. Turns out, he's got this weird fetish. Likes to be called Poopsy Doodles. ...Sounds like mum issues, if you ask me. Good thing there is f-cking two of us.

I f-cking did it. I was walking home last night and I spotted him. Thank f-cking God, I wasn't covered in blood again. I got him. Like a f-cking Pokemon, I caught him. He's shackled to a bed. Still alive. His heartbeat is divine. But seriously... it was like this.

Well, we have to f-cking find them first. And then we have to decide on how we want to kill them, because I am not sucking that ridiculously sour f-cking blood. F-ck that. And THEN... we have to find our handsome bloke. The rest is easy. But those b-tches...

Jesus. It could be worse, you know. Your name could be Purple Haze, or Joanna Manc-ck, or -oh! I read about this one person somewhere named Sh-t Fun Chew. Can you f-cking imagine? All those burning bags of festering turd left on the doorstep? ...Actually, no. I think you have it worst of all. I don't know your father, but I am 99.99% sure he is not something I would want to see in only socks. ...Did he sock his.. um.. you know, at least?